


Bases Loaded

by zebraljb



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2013 Make the Yuletide Gay Secret Santa.  Chris is a seasoned catcher who is forced to babysit the new upstart pitcher while dealing with his own crush on their shortstop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bases Loaded

 

Chris Kirkpatrick sighed as he flopped onto the hard wooden bench, his duffel clanging against the metal locker in front of him.  He slowly leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against the cool metal.  He sighed again as he mentally reran the conversation he’d just come out of.

 

“We need you, Chris.”  Johnny Wright had said.  “You’ve got more experience than all the other guys put together.”

“Not true,” Chris had quickly pointed out.  “Richardson has…”

“Richardson isn’t my catcher,” Johnny interrupted.  “You’re one of the best in the league, Chris.  Golden Glove, remember?  And better than that, you can read pitchers.”

“This kid needs you, Kirkpatrick.”  Tim Mosely, the pitching coach, leaned forward.  “He’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, but he’s young.  And cocky.”

“Great.”  Chris rolled his eyes.  “So I’m playing Bull Durham to some pretty boy from the minors?”

“Chris, it’s your job,” Johnny reminded him.

 

“You know, last time I checked, those things latched shut.”

Chris slowly sat up and turned around.  “You’re such a funny guy, Fatone. Seriously…you should have your own show on Comedy Central.”

The third baseman bestowed a sunny grin on Chris.  “I know, right? I keep trying, but they won’t take my calls.”

“You’re so cute, Joe,” Chris said. He stood up to take a swing at his best friend, but winced as he felt the bones in his knee grind and pop.

“Shouldn’t you be getting that worked on?”  Joey Fatone motioned to Chris’ knee.

“Yeah.  I had a meeting with our royal manager and pitching coach first.”  Chris opened his locker and tossed a few things in.

“What about?”

Chris looked around.  Joey was always the first one in the locker room on game day, by a good twenty minutes, so Chris was fairly certain they were alone.  “We’re getting some new meat on the mound.  Some kid with a rocket-launcher arm and a boatload of attitude.”

“Wonderful.”  Joey made a face.  “Thought we got rid of that when we traded Bieber.”

“Me, too,” Chris said.  “So, of course, they pull the old dog in and say, hey, Kirkpatrick, teach the puppy some new tricks.”

Joey laughed.  “Well, you’re definitely good at that.”

“Whatever.”  Chris stretched a bit. “I’m gonna go soak the old bones a bit.”

“Hang in there,” Joey said, slapping Chris on the back.  Chris snorted and headed for the trainer’s room.

 

Twenty minutes later he was in a bubbling hot tub, gratefully soaking the perpetual ache out of his knees.  The relief was temporary, but always welcome.  Chris knew his knees were living on borrowed time, the result of years of repeated crouching/standing/crouching.  He made himself ignore it, but he knew that sooner or later, his baseball days would be over.

“Ricky…you have time to work on my shoulder?”

Chris’ eyes flew open at the deep voice.  He watched Lance Bass enter the room and tug off his shirt.  “Sure, Lance…have a seat.”  The trainer began digging through some bottles on a table.  “I can give you a quick rubdown.”

“Thanks,” Lance said gratefully.  He nodded at the tub. “Chris.”

“Hey, Lance.”  Chris tried to sound casual as he did his best to avoid staring at his teammate.  Lance had joined the team his third year in the majors, taking over for a retiring shortstop that everyone had loved but soon forgot once Lance made his presence known.  He had strange yellow-green eyes, a deep southern drawl, and did not look like a baseball player.  His talent on the field, however, made up for all that. 

Chris had noticed Lance the second he walked into the locker room on his first day with the team.  Chris, unfortunately, had chosen a profession that did not smile favorably upon men who noticed other good-looking men, but he couldn’t help it.  Only two other players knew, Joey and their center fielder, JC Chasez.  Chris kept his private life private, but that was lately proving to be very difficult, as his entire body seemed to jump to attention every time Lance Bass entered a room.  He was polite and friendly, as a good teammate would be, but did his best to not go any further than that.  He’d often seen Lance with pretty girls on his arm, so he figured his interest would not be returned.  And that was that.

“How you doin’, Chris?”  Lance laid down on one of the tables, arranging himself comfortably.  “Knees bad again?”

“Again? How about always?”  Chris rolled his eyes.  “How about you?  What’s up with the shoulder?”

“Just a bit of ache.  Feelin’ my old age, I guess.”

Chris growled a bit.  “You’re what, twenty, Bass?”

“Hardly.”  Lance closed his eyes as Ricky started digging into his back.  “But I guess we’re all little kids next to you, huh, Chris?”

“Smartass.”  As soon as Lance’s eyes closed, Chris pulled himself out of the tub and began to dry off.  They all saw each other in various forms of undress, of course, but there was no need to advertise his age, paunch and wrinkles to Lance.

“Only kind of ass to be,” Lance mumbled, groaning a bit.  His voice was deep against the surface of the table.

Chris dressed as quickly as possible and left the training room with a hurried goodbye.

 

“Kirkpatrick…hear you get to babysit again.” 

Chris looked up from tying his shoes.  “Richardson, I swear, you get your head any further up Wright’s ass, you'll know what he had for breakfast.”

“Funny.”  The tall man who ruled the left field fence leaned against the lockers and smirked at Chris.  “I’m beginning to wonder if they keep you because they think you have talent, or because they need you to break in new pitchers.”

“And I’m beginning to wonder if they only keep you in left because it’s far away from where most of the action is,” Chris retorted. “Go annoy someone else.”

“Asshole,” Kevin Richardson muttered, stalking away.

“You know, I thought Danny Wood from my Astros days was the biggest dickhead I’d ever met.”  A skinny man with a mane of curls walked over to Chris.  “And then I met Kevin Richardson.”

“He’s nothing, JC.”  Chris waved a hand in the air.  “Just a waste of skin and oxygen.”

“You know how those outfielders are,” Joey called out.   “Jealous of the infield.”

“Hey,” JC protested, smacking Joey in the chest with his glove.  “Watch it.”

Joey watched Kevin Richardson, second baseman Brian Littrell and first baseman Nick Carter walk out of the locker room before coming over.  “Guess it’s official, then.”

“What’s official?” JC asked, almost bouncing on his feet.  He hated secrets. 

Lance Bass walked in, not looking at all surprised to find Chris, JC and Joey deep in some sort of secret conversation.  “Am I interrupting?”

“Of course not,” Chris said, wincing at the eagerness in his voice.  “It’s a public place.  Well…sort of.”  Lance chuckled but didn’t say anything.  “It’s nothing you won’t know sooner or later, anyway.  We’re getting a new pitcher.  And I get to make sure he behaves himself.”

“Hope you do a better job than you did with Bieber,” JC muttered.

Chris glared at him.  “Bieber had the IQ of home plate.”

“It wasn’t Chris’ fault,” Lance added, surprising Chris.  “The kid was an idiot.”

Chris smiled gratefully at Lance.  “It’s some newbie up from the farm.  Timberlake.”  Lance and JC groaned as one.  “You’ve heard of him?”

“I think everyone’s HEARD of him,” JC said.

“You’re just a big gossip. That’s how you know about him,” Joey teased.  JC was known as the team chatterbox.

“I came up through with him,” Lance said. “Played together in Florida and Tennessee.  The boy can throw, I’ll tell you that.”

“Boy?” Chris asked, amused.

“He’s a couple of years younger than I am,” Lance said, shrugging.  “But all the other rumors are true.  He has an ego the size of Yankee Stadium.”

“Chris will whip him into shape,” JC said.

Chris rolled his eyes.  “I’m tired of whipping you young kids into shape.”

“Maybe you should retire, then,” Joey said.

Chris glared at him.  “They’re gonna have to wheel my cold dead body out from behind home plate when I go.”

 

After the game, Chris chatted with the pitcher, Howie Dorough, as they clattered their way back into the locker room.  “Good game, Dorough,” AJ Mclean said, slapping him on the back.

“If it wasn’t for you snagging that last foul ball, we wouldn’t be saying that,” Howie said, smiling ruefully.  “Bases loaded, bottom of the ninth?”

“You did fine,” Chris assured him.

“You did,” AJ agreed.  “You, too, Chris.”

“Thanks, man.”  Chris tried not to wince as he sat down on the bench.  His knees were aching a lot more than usual.

“Gentlemen.  Good game.”  Johnny Wright came in the locker room after everyone was assembled inside.  “Howie…that fast ball is looking better.  Chris, way to call ‘em.  McLean…I didn’t know you could jump that high.”

“Me either,” AJ answered, and everyone chuckled.

“Have someone for you all to meet.”  Johnny opened the door to the locker room and stepped aside.  A tall skinny young man stepped in.  His riot of brownish-blond curls was barely contained under a baseball cap.  His smile was bright and cheerful as he looked around the locker room.  “Justin Timberlake.  Our new pitcher.”

Chris rolled his eyes at the tone of Johnny’s voice.  He sounded as if he were announcing visiting royalty, although he was sure Justin saw himself as some sort of royalty.  The thought made him smile. 

“Pretty,” JC hissed in Chris’ ear as Johnny started introducing Justin around. 

“So are you,” Chris whispered back, and JC glared at him.

“Lance!”  Justin said, sounding surprised.  Chris’ head whipped up.  “Hey.”

“Hello, Justin.”  Lance looked at Justin without smiling.  “Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks. Glad to be here,” Justin said, although he didn’t sound very sincere.

“And this is the man who will look out for you,” Johnny said, approaching Chris.

“I don’t need anyone looking out for me,” Justin replied. “But I always need a good catcher.  Justin Timberlake.”  He thrust his hand at Chris.

Chris took it.  “Chris Kirkpatrick.”

“Oh, I know.  You’re a legend, man.  Been around forever.”

Chris heard Kevin and Joey chuckle from across the room but studiously ignored them.  “I don’t know about the legend, but I’ve been around forever, that’s for sure.”

“I had some ideas about signals and stuff.  Maybe we can get together soon?”  Justin asked.

“Sure.  We’ll work it out this week.”  Chris sat back down, ending their conversation.

“C’mon, Justin. I want to show you the training room and a few other things.”  Johnny led Justin out of the locker room.

Joey ambled over to Chris. “Pretty.”

“What is WITH you two?” Chris snapped as JC snorted a laugh into a cough.  “Yeah, he’s got nice eyes and legs that go on forever,” he snarled in a whisper.  “So?”

“So?” Joey repeated, grinning.

Chris looked around the room to make sure no one was privy to their conversation, quiet as it was.  Everyone was ignoring them, except for Lance Bass, who was giving Chris a curious look.  Chris swallowed hard.  “Shut up,” he said finally.

 

Chris was completely prepared to hate Justin Timberlake.  The new addition to the team, was young, good looking, charming, funny, and, unfortunately, talented as hell out on the pitcher’s mound.  The first time they practiced together, his hand was actually throbbing from the intensity of Justin’s fastball.

“Looking good,” Chris said after the first twenty minutes of pitch and catch.  He lobbed the ball back to Justin and stood, flexing his legs a bit.  “You have speed, the power…I think we just need to work on the control.”

“I control it just fine.”  Justin took off his cap and rubbed at his curls. 

“Whatever, Kid.”  Chris rolled his eyes.  “Give me something other than your fastball now, okay?  You got a change-up?  Curveball?”

“I got it all,” Justin said with his million-dollar grin.

“Someone fucking kill me now,” Chris mumbled to himself, and got back behind the plate.

Ten minutes later, they had a small audience of their teammates standing in the dugout.   
“Better watch out, Timberlake,” Chris heard Kevin Richardson call.  “Throw any harder and Chris is gonna need a new hand.”

“Don’t you idiots have something better to do?” Chris called back.

“No!” Came the cheerful reply.

“Assholes,” Chris muttered, standing up again.  He approached the mound, but Justin refused to meet him halfway.  Chris rolled his eyes again.  “Don’t let them rattle you, Justin.  You’re doing just fine.”

“They’re not rattling me,” Justin promised.  “They’re saying shit to you, not me.”

“Right.”  Chris wished the ground would swallow him whole.  “I think we’re good for today.  I…”

“No.  I want to throw some more.”  Justin actually pouted, and if Chris wasn’t so busy hating him, he would have thought it was adorable.

“Look, Justin, I…”

“How about you let someone try to hit off him?” Joey called from the dugout.  “Let’s see him in action.”

Justin’s face lit up.  “Yeah.”

“Okay.”  Chris sighed and pulled his mask back down as he walked to the plate.

“I’ll do it.”  Lance Bass jammed a batting helmet onto his head and strode out to the plate.

“Oh,” Chris said weakly, hoping Lance didn’t hear him.  Lance wore his uniform pants and a tight green tee that emphasized the muscles in his arms and back. 

“Give him hell, Justin!”  A few of the players yelled.

“Send it over the fence, Bass!”  JC shouted.

“I’m planning on sending it through those shiny teeth,” Chris heard Lance mutter.

Justin’s first two pitches were wide and high.  “Control!”  Chris shouted.

“I know,” Justin snapped back.  His third pitch grazed the outside of Lance’s left thigh.

“What the hell!”  Chris yelled, standing up and throwing off his mask before he knew what he was doing.

“It’s fine, Chris.  Barely tapped me,” Lance promised, putting a hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Sorry,” Justin said nonchalantly, not sounding sorry at all.

“It’s fine,” Lance repeated, giving Chris a gentle shove back behind the plate.

Chris growled a bit but resumed his position.  He showed Justin a signal and Justin delivered a beautiful pitch.  Lance apparently thought the pitch beautiful as well, because he sent the ball flying neatly over the left field fence.  The dugout hooted and yelled.  Justin kicked the dirt in disgust.  Lance took off his helmet, gave Chris a nod, and strode off the field.

Justin was in a fine mood after that, and Chris was quite pleased when the pitching coach decided they could call it a day.  Before Chris could even speak to him, Justin stalked off the field.  “Looks like someone had a bad day,” Joey said as Chris stepped into the dugout.  Joey usually showed up to watch Chris practice with pitchers, claiming he liked to see the winces of pain on Chris’ face as he stood and squatted for an hour.  Chris pointed out that Joey couldn’t SEE his face, as he wore a mask, but Joey cheerfully ignored that.

“Guess so.”

“That was a nice hit.  Good power,” Joey remarked, watching Chris’ face carefully.

“Yeah.  I know.  I called a bad pitch.”  Chris unfastened his leg guards and tossed them to the ground.

“Chris, that’s not why…”

“Whatever.”  Chris headed for the trainer’s room.  He needed to ask Ricky some questions about home treatment for his knees.

Chris stopped short at the training room door, however, when he heard two very familiar voices.

“I wasn’t aiming for you!”

“I highly doubt that,” a low voice said.  “But like I said to Chris, it was fine.”

“I’d never try to hurt you, Lance.”

“You were showing off.  When you show off, you lose all control.”  Chris heard Lance sigh.  “Doesn’t matter how much power you have, Justin. If you can’t control it…you’re nothing.”

“NEVER call me nothing,” Justin growled.  “I’m…”

“Yes. I know.  Better than me.”

“Lance…”

“I accept your apology, Justin, because I’m assuming that’s what this is.”  Chris nudged the door a bit and saw Lance in his shirt and boxers, a nice bruise forming on the outside of his leg.  “I’m fine.”

“Lance…” Justin’s face was a mask of dejection as he put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

Suddenly Chris’ knees didn’t hurt that much.  He turned and quickly walked down to the locker room.

 

The next morning, Chris was one of the first players on the bus.  He grabbed a seat by a window, about three-quarters of the way back.  He got his pillow and blanket arranged just right and closed his eyes.  When he’d first started bringing along his own personal bedding, other players had teased him, but he was one of the first ones to fall asleep once the bus was in motion.  To hell with what they thought.

He kept his eyes closed , feigning sleep as he heard the other players grumble their way onto the bus.  No one liked traveling on the bus, but unless you made it to the big leagues, you didn’t have a choice.  Chris just hoped that JC took the seat next to him.  JC could sleep through a hurricane, and he was thin, so he was a good seatmate.  While Chris loved his best friend, Joey seemed to take up a lot of room.

Someone took the seat next to him, and his leg brushed Chris’. It wasn’t JC.  Chris inhaled deeply, smelling a pleasant scent that drove a weird chill down his spine.  “New aftershave?”  Chris murmured sleepily.  Joey was always trying to impress the ladies.

“Naw, it’s something I’ve always worn,” the deep voice said, and Chris’ eyes flew open.  He sat up quickly, staring at Lance.  Lance never sat next to him.  “Coffee?”  Lance held out a cup with a lid. 

“Um, yeah.  Thanks.”  Chris realized his blanket was taking over most of the row, and tugged it out of the way.  “Sorry.  I didn’t…I expected…”

“If you’re looking for Joey and JC, they’re busy.”  Lance nodded towards the front of the bus.  “Listening to tales from Timberworld.”

Chris groaned as he watched Justin entertain JC, Joey and a few other players with some sort of animated story.  “We’re not even on the road yet.”

Lance chuckled, a deep sound that gave Chris another shiver.  “He’s an entertainer.  I don’t think he can help it.”

Chris sipped at his coffee.  “So…you two came up together.”

“We played together for a bit,” Lance said, nodding slowly. 

“Did you get to know him well?”  Chris asked.

Lance’s pale cheeks reddened slightly.  “We were friends, I guess.”  He looked down at his coffee.  “I don’t think Justin has many friends.  And he’s not someone I would trust with my friendship.”  He looked back at Chris.  “Some things you can only tell certain people.”

Chris gulped at the coffee, trying not to get lost in Lance’s steely green gaze.  “Right.  I have Joey and JC.  I mean, I’ve known Joe forever.  And JC…”

“You can’t help it,” Lance said, grinning as he watched JC double over with laughter.  “He’s a good guy.”

“So…how’s your leg?” Chris asked.

“Oh, it’s fine.  I have a bit of a bruise.  He apologized.”

“Good.”  Chris nodded and looked out the window.

“I should feel honored.  It’s rare Justin Timberlake apologizes to anyone.”  Lance studied Chris’ blanket.

Chris desperately wanted to ask what was going on between Lance and Justin.  He wanted to ask what had gone on between them in the past.  He had NO clue how to do it without sounding incredibly nosy.  “I…”

“I get the feeling you don’t have a whole lot of love for Timberlake, Chris,” Lance said.  “He’s not that bad a guy, down deep.”

“Right,” Chris said weakly. 

“Just wait before you judge him.  He had a rough youth.  Broken home, fighting for attention from both sides,” Lance confided quietly.  “Had to put up some walls.”

“Sounds like he has quite the hero in you,” Chris said. 

Lance smiled wryly.  “I’m no hero.  I just know him.  I’m not saying he can’t be a Grade A dickhead.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Chris mumbled, and Lance laughed.

“Enough talk about Timberlake.”  Lance settled back a bit and closed his eyes.  “I need a nap.”

“Right,” Chris said.  He lay back down himself, but knew sleep could not possibly come with Lance sitting beside him.

 

Over the next few weeks, Chris tried to take Lance’s suggestion and give Justin Timberlake the benefit of the doubt.  For many reasons, however, this was one of the biggest challenges Chris had ever given himself.  Not only was Justin a cocky SOB with a smart mouth, but there was also the idea that SOMETHING had happened between Justin and Lance. 

“Wonderful game!”  Johnny yelled as he entered the locker room one evening.  “Justin, that arm of yours…fantastic!”

“Thanks.” Justin hung his head modestly but managed to completely fail to look at all humble.

“Don’t mind me.  I’m just the one that gave him the signals, caught his pitches, and pretty much made sure he kept the ball in the park,” Chris grumbled quietly to his locker.  “No big deal.”

“Hey, Kirkpatrick, you did good, too,” Johnny called out, almost as if he’d heard Chris.  Chris simply nodded.

“Good game, Chris,” Lance said, walking over.

“Thanks,” Chris said, smiling.  Lance had been approaching him a bit more, even going out for drinks with he, Joey and JC on occasion.  He had a dry wit and a snarky sense of humor that Chris adored.  He also could outdrink all of them, even Joey, which was an accomplishment in and of itself. 

Lance leaned on Chris’ locker, blocking their conversation from the rest of the locker room.  “He was shaking off your signals, wasn’t he?”

Chris stared at him. “What?”

“I stand behind him, remember?”  Lance said with a wry grin.  “I can see what’s going on.  I could also see how pissed you were walking in here.”

“Oh, well…” Chris shrugged.  “I’m just the old dog.  He’s not looking to learn any new tricks from me.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed.  “Chris, you’re one of the best catchers in the league.  You know the game, and you know how your pitchers should throw.  Don’t let him boss you around.”

“Who’s bossing people around?”  Justin threw an arm around Chris’ shoulders.  “You’re not trying to boss Chris around, are you, Lance? I know you like being in charge.”

Chris looked from Justin to Lance.  “You know, you shouldn’t eavesdrop, Timberlake. You may hear something you shouldn’t.”

“What could Lance possibly have to say bad about me?”  Justin tilted his head and gave his bright smile.

“I don’t have enough time to go down the list.”  Lance turned and walked away.

 

After soaking in a hot bath for over an hour, Chris decided to make an appearance in the hotel bar.  Most of the players ignored the hotel bars because they were normally crawling with fans.  Chris figured no one would be interested in him.   Not with people like Justin and even JC around.  The women loved JC’s curly hair and long legs.

He was proven wrong when he entered the bar.  Two women jumped up from their seats and hurried over.  “Oh, Chris, could you sign this?  Could we get a picture?  Is JC with you?”

Chris politely signed what they wanted, posed for a few pictures, and allowed some brief hugs.  He then went to the bar.  “Pull me a draft.  I don’t care what it is.”

“Coming up.”  The bartender grabbed a glass.

Chris looked around the dark bar as he waited.  He was surprised to see a head of blond spikes over the top of a corner booth.  “Thanks.”  Chris paid for his beer, tipped the bartender, and ambled towards the corner.  “Didn’t know you were the type to drink alone, Bass.”

“Sometimes drinking alone gives me the best company,” Lance replied.  He motioned to the opposite side of the booth.  “Take a load off.”

“Thanks.”  Chris slid into the seat.  “Figured you’d be out finding a pretty girl or something.  I know Joey was excited about some new bar down the street.”

Lance shrugged.  “Not my scene, really.  At least not tonight.”  He studied Chris and seemed to carefully choose his words.  “Sometimes I do things because I have to, not because I want to.”  Chris nodded.  “And tonight was a night for what I WANTED to do.  Keep to myself and have a few drinks.”

“If I’m bothering you…” Chris started to slide back out.

“No!”  Lance said immediately.  “I’m glad for YOUR company.”  Lance drained his glass, and gracefully slid it to the edge of the table.  A waiter immediately appeared and took it away, soon replacing it with a new drink.

“So…” Chris tapped his fingers on the side of his glass, realizing that this was the first time he’d really spent any time with Lance alone.  “You and Justin are both from the South?”

“Yes.”  Lance smiled.  “I was born an’ raised in Mississippi, honey.”  He poured the drawl on thick.  “Justin’s from Tennessee, originally.”

“I was never any farther south than Baltimore before joining the team,” Chris said.  “I’m from Pennsylvania.  Small town in the western part of the state.”  He took a long swallow of his beer.  “Nothing you’ve heard of.”

“I’ve heard you mention sisters?” Lance asked.

Chris nodded.  “Four younger sisters.  And my mom. And me.  Just us.”

“Wow. Four sisters.”  Lance shook his head.  “I have one, and she’s more than enough.”

Chris smiled.  “It was interesting, that’s for sure.  I was sorta the dad, sometimes, because my mom worked…” Chris’ voice trailed off.  Not many people knew his history.  Even Joey only knew the basics.  “But now things are better, and I can help take care of them.”

“I’m not surprised.  You’re the caretaker type.”

“Yep, that’s me.”  Chris finished his beer and motioned for another one.  “I learned to babysit at a young age.  Makes it easier to deal with you young whippersnappers.  You and Timberlake.”

“Please do not lump me into a group with him,” Lance almost snapped. Chris’ eyes widened.  “I assure you I do not need a babysitter.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Chris said quickly.

“I’m sorry,” Lance said with a sigh.  “No need to bite your head off like that.”  Lance twirled his glass on its coaster.  “I was less than thrilled when I heard Justin was joining the team.  Not that I’m not thankful for his arm…I’m ninety percent sure that rocket of his is going to get us to the playoffs, if not farther.  But I spent three years in competition with him, and as you can imagine, it’s damn hard to compete with Justin Timberlake.”

“I don’t see any comparison at all,” Chris said honestly.  Lance’s green eyes were unreadable as he studied Chris. 

“Thank you.”

Chris fidgeted a bit, realizing he was staring at Lance.  “Um, well, I’m sure we won’t have to worry about Timberlake for long.  He’ll get called up, and if I’m not mistaken, there have been a few people talking about our shortstop.”

Lance snorted.  “I’m not good enough for the big time, Chris.”

“Yes, you are,” Chris said, surprised. 

“I’ve had to fight tooth and nail to get where I’m at,” Lance said.  He looked unhappy.  “People like you, like Justin…it just comes naturally.  You were born with it.  I’ve had to earn it.”

“You’ve worked hard.  You deserve it,” Chris said.  “Don’t put yourself down like that, Lance.”

“I’m glad you stopped in here tonight, Chris,” Lance said suddenly.

Chris actually felt himself blush.  “Well, I’m sure I’m a poor replacement for a sexy girl.”

Lance slowly smiled, and Chris felt a twinge of want scramble down his spine.  “I’m not missing a sexy girl in the slightest.”

 

“I’m really beginning to hate him,” JC remarked two weeks later as they watched Justin Timberlake bestow his sunny grin on a swarm of female fans outside the stadium.

“Why? Because the girls like him more than you?” Chris teased.

“NO,” JC answered, annoyed.  “He’s just full of bad vibes, you know?”

“Are you on that Buddhism kick again, JC?” Joey asked.  “We’ve told you about that.  Not everyone has an aura or a karma or whatever that crap is.”

“People don’t have “a karma,” you idiot,” JC snapped.  “And don’t insult my religion.”

“It’s not your religion,” Joey snapped back.

“Weren’t you raised Mennonite, or something?” Chris asked.

“Not the point,” JC said, exasperated.  “He just brings everyone down, you know?”

“I thought you two were buddies,” Chris said.  “I saw you hanging out the other day.”

“I’m friendly to EVERYONE,” JC pointed out.  “He’s not a bad person or anything.  I just don’t feel like he cares about what’s best for the team.”

Joey and Chris burst out laughing.  “Jayce, it’s moments like these that I’m damn happy I’m on this team,” Chris said.  “You’re one in a million.”

“Still,” JC said, frowning as he watched Justin extricate himself from the groupies.  “I have a bad feeling.”

“Don’t worry, JC,” Joey said, slapping JC on the back as they climbed into the bus.  “You have nothing to worry about. It’s Chris the kid’s throwing baseballs at, not you.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Chris said wryly. 

He was surprised to see Lance already situated in the back of the bus.  Joey and JC flopped down in the seats opposite Lance, arguing about religion.  Chris motioned to the empty seat next to Lance, who nodded. He sat down.  “What is it today?” Lance asked, motioning to JC and Joey.

“Karma and auras and Buddhism and religion,” Chris answered.

Lance raised an eyebrow.  “Really.”

“You honestly don’t want to know,” Chris said.  “I’m not even sure I can explain it, anyway.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lance said with a grin.  He watched as Chris settled himself into the seat.  “You’re sore today,” he observed, watching grimace and shift his weight around.  “Are you sure you don’t want a seat to yourself?  You should stretch out.”

“I’m fine,” Chris promised, touched by Lance’s concern.  “I’ll have a good rubdown later.”  He unconsciously smoothed his hand over his knee.

“Okay.”  Lance put his earphones in and closed his eyes.  Chris secretly watched Lance for a moment, then put his own earbuds in.

 

As they piled off the bus at the stadium a few hours later, everyone’s mood had dropped.  The sky had darkened to a shade a bit lighter than charcoal.  No one liked playing in the rain.  Add to that the fact that the stadium they were playing at had the worst visitors’ locker room in the league, and you were left with a group of unhappy baseball players.

“Maybe it will storm,” JC said hopefully as he unpacked his bag.

Joey stared at him.  “You hate rain delays.”

“I know. I want to play.  But…” JC waved a hand in the air.  Joey rolled his eyes and dug into his own bag.

Chris dressed quickly and sat on a bench, studying his glove.  He didn’t really feel like playing, either, but it was his job.  And who knew how much longer he’d have it?  He cast occasional glances at Lance, but tried to keep his eyes down.  “Hey.”  The voice made him jump.

“Hey,” Chris said as Justin Timberlake sat down on the opposite bench.

Justin looked around.  “This is seriously the nastiest locker room I have ever been in.  How do they afford to pay their players?”

“Oh, they pay their players just fine,” Chris said, smiling.  “It’s all psychological.  Make the visitors feel like crap, so they play like crap.”

“I don’t plan on pitching like crap today,” Justin informed him.

“Good.  Because I don’t plan on giving you any crap signs.”

“Good.”  Justin smiled back.  “We’re a good team. We’ll kick their asses today.”

Chris glanced at Lance, who was frowning as he watched them talk.  “Right.  Just keep yourself under control and we’ll do fine.”

“Jesus, Chris, lighten up.” Justin scowled and stood up.  “I know what I’m doing.”

“I hope so,” Chris muttered as Justin walked away.

 

Everyone’s morale was pretty low as they took the field, but to their credit, they didn’t let it show.  Even Kevin Richardson waved to the crowd as he ran to the outfield, ignoring the series of booing that followed.

“God, these people are assholes,” Justin muttered behind his glove as Chris came to the mound for one last conference.

“Yeah, we so love playing here,” Chris said, shaking his head.  “Make ‘em love you, kid.”

“No problem,” Justin said with his beautiful smile.  Chris rolled his eyes and headed back behind home plate.

“Kirkpatrick.”  The first batter took his place in the box.  “They still letting you play?  Are they running some sort of AARP special?”

“You’re so funny, Lachey,” Chris growled, flicking a signal to Justin.  “Seriously.”

“I know,” the other man said, taking a few practice swings.  Justin let the pitch go and the bat made a delicious crack as it connected with the ball.  Chris stood and watched the ball drop neatly in center field.

“Fuck,” he muttered as Drew Lachey took off for first base.  He looked at Justin, who was disgustedly kicking at the mound.  “Get it together, kid,” Chris said quietly.  “Shake it off.”

Justin struck out the next two batters and seemed to relax a bit.  He walked the clean-up batter, however, and Chris called time-out.  He jogged out to the mound, where he was joined by the other infielders.  “You’re looking good, Justin,” Brian promised.  “This is just the first inning.”

“Then why are y’all out here?” Justin snapped.  “Normally we don’t powwow in the first fucking inning.”

“Maybe we just wanted to say hi,” Lance said pleasantly.  “Catch up.  Nick, did I see you with a new girl?”

The tall blond blinked.  “Uh, yeah.  I’m seeing someone.”

“Really?” Justin asked.  “We’re talking about this?”

“Got your mind off the game, didn’t it?” Joey asked.  “Don’t try so hard, dude.  Just let it ride.”

“Whatever.  Get off my mound.”  But Justin was smiling a bit.

“They’re assholes,” Chris said.  “But you’re in charge of the pitches.  Don’t let them intimidate you.”

“Right.”  Justin nodded.

“Let’s play ball!”  Nick turned and went back to first base.

Chris got down behind the plate and thumped his glove a bit.  “Chris Kirkpatrick.  Long time no see,” the batter said, and Chris inwardly groaned.

“Williams.”  Chris tried to speak politely, but it came out as a growl.

“You never called me.”  Robbie Williams swung a bit, hitting some dirt off his shoe with the bat.  “I thought…”

“Just get in the damn box, would you?”  Chris had allowed himself to get involved with other players only two times in his long career, and Robbie Williams was the one he regretted most.  Rumors flew about Robbie’s sexuality, although he never confirmed or denied anything.  Chris preferred to remain much farther back in the closet.

“Fine.”  Robbie took one more swing and stepped into the batter’s box.  “This one’s for you, Chris.”

Chris winced as the bat connected with the ball.  He watched the ball sail over the infield, and immediately took his stance in front of the plate as he watched Nick Lachey fly from second towards third.  “C’mon, c’mon, JC, get the damn ball in!”  Chris yelled.  He shoved his mask off his face, frowning as Lachey actually turned third and headed for home.  “We can get him!”  JC shot the ball at Justin, who cut it off and turned towards home.  He hesitated, and it was enough time for Lachey to make a good approach towards the plate.  Chris steeled himself for the collision even as he watched for Justin’s throw.  He felt Nick run into him, heard a snap, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, his head thudding against the ground.  The last thing Chris remembered before passing out was the sound of the umpire yelling for time out.

 

“Careful…careful…easy does it…”

“What the hell?” Chris mumbled, trying to sit up.  He felt pain roar through his knee.

“Relax.”  A hand pressed on his chest.  “What’s your name, sir?”

“Christopher Kirkpatrick, who the hell are you?”  Chris winced as he tried to focus.  He was gently swaying side to side and bumping around. He could still hear the crowd yelling.

“I’m a paramedic, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and, might I add, a big fan,” the man said, smiling down at him. 

Chris was finally able to focus on the man’s face.  “I don’t need a paramedic.  I need to get back behind the plate.”

“I’m afraid you do need a paramedic,” the man said apologetically.  “You had the wind knocked out of you and took a pretty serious hit to the knee.  We’re taking you to the hospital.”

Chris groaned as he felt the gurney go up into the ambulance.  “I don’t need a hospital.”

“Just relax,” the man said again.  The doors slammed shut, and the paramedic accidentally bumped the side of the gurney.  Chris’ leg jolted and he screamed in pain.  Maybe he needed the hospital, after all.

 

About eight hours later, Chris was safely tucked into a hospital bed, blissfully aloft on a cloud of pain medication.  He was very happy for the meds, because not only were they keeping the pain in his knee to a dull throb, they were keeping him from the serious thought that his baseball career was more than likely over.  He’d been sent into surgery as soon as possible, but the situation was clear: his knee was shattered.

Chris stared at the television set that he wasn’t really seeing.  All he could see were the years of baseball that he’d taken for granted.  He was one of the luckiest men in the country, with a job he loved that paid more than well.  People knew his name.  He was able to take care of his family.  He’d even set up a good savings account, backed by wise investments suggested by Joey, of all people.  But no cushion of cash could fill the hole left by playing the game.

Chris sighed, angrily flipping channels.  Life sucked.

The door opened and he turned towards it, ready to growl at whatever night nurse wanted to interrupt his miserable self-pity.  His eyes widened as he saw whose head was poking around the curtain.  “You busy?”  JC asked, grinning.

“Well, I was really interested in this infomercial about wrinkle cream, but I can make time for you.”  Chris tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position.

“Good.”  JC came into the room, followed by Joey and Lance.  Chris suddenly wished he had more on than a hideous hospital gown.

“What are you guys doing here?”   Chris concentrated on not slurring his words.

Joey sat in the chair by the bed and grabbed Chris’ remote.  “Well, I was all for heading out to the bar, but JC was all, no, we should go visit Chris.”  He started flipping channels.

“Damn JC,” Chris said, smiling weakly at JC.

“How are you feeling?” JC asked, patting Chris’ good leg.  JC was the only person Chris knew who could pat you and not make you feel like a puppy.

“Like hell.  Did anyone get the license plate of the truck that hit me?” Chris tried to joke.

“Fucking Lachey,” Lance growled, and Chris stared at him.  “That was bullshit.  He didn’t make any effort to go for the plate.  He headed straight for YOU.”

“Lance,” JC began.

“No.  I saw it.  I think I was a little closer to home plate than you were, JC,” Lance snapped.  “And the fucking ump didn’t see a thing.  NONE of them did.  No.  They said Chris was blocking the plate.”

“I was not!”  Chris protested, then winced.  He fumbled for his pain button but didn’t push it.

“Of course you weren’t,” JC said. 

“Lachey’s a douche,” Joey remarked, stopping on a “Married…With Children” rerun.

“I hate this show,” Chris commented, but Joey ignored him.

“And then there’s Justin,” Lance said.  “He should’ve gotten the ball home.”

“He got it there,” JC said.  Lance raised an eyebrow and JC said nothing more.

“Well, I appreciate you guys coming in,” Chris said, blinking hard.

“You’re tired.”  JC patted him again as Joey stood.  “We’ll go.”

“No, I’m fine,” Chris protested, but Lance shook his head.

“We’ll see you later,” Lance said.  Chris nodded and finally allowed his eyes to fall shut.

 

When they opened again hours later, Lance was seated in the chair Joey had vacated, watching CNN.  Chris studied him for a long moment before saying, “Am I still asleep?  Because I swear you were leaving.”

Lance jumped.  “Jesus, Chris!”

“Sorry.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like hell, but a muted sort of hell.  Like there’s a bubble around me.”

“Good.”  Lance gave no explanation as to why he was still at the hospital.  “Do you know anything?  About your knee, I mean.”

“It’s not good,” Chris mumbled.  “They haven’t said much, it’s too soon, but I can feel it in my bones…excuse the pun.  I’m finished.”

“Not necessarily,” Lance said.  Chris started to protest.  “I’m not talking about playing.  You’re definitely done playing.  But you’re not done with the game.  You can coach.  You’ve shown what you can do with idiots like Bieber and Timberlake.  There are a lot of teams out there who could use you and your experience.”

Chris snorted.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t imagined himself coaching.  But that was when he was old and grey.  Not now.  Not yet.  “We’ll see,” he said finally.  Lance nodded and turned back to the television.  “Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but I’m thinking your bed at the hotel would be a lot more comfortable than that chair.”

Lance shrugged.  “I’m not tired.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Chris feigned interest in the television.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Lance said finally.  Chris glanced at him and realized, to his surprise, that Lance seemed nervous.  “You went down pretty hard.  That Lachey is a fucking bulldozer.”  Lance’s green eyes narrowed.  “You weren’t blocking the damn plate.”

“I know,” Chris said feebly.

“So, yeah.  You scared us a bit,” Lance finally continued.  “We knew we had to come in here and see you, make sure you were all right.”

“I appreciate it,” Chris said.

Lance studied his knees for a moment.  “I had a good long conversation with JC and Joey a few nights ago.”

“Oh?”  Chris suddenly wished for stronger medication.

“I have to be honest, I was getting sort of nosy, asking questions about you.”

“Oh?” Chris repeated.

“Yes.  Joey and JC are good friends.  They tried their best to not say much, but let’s just say I am very good at interrogation,” Lance smiled slyly.  “I may have gotten out of them that you, well, prefer to live the kind of private lifestyle that most sports fans wouldn’t appreciate.”

“Lance, you are the only person I know who could word being gay like that,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“I read a lot,” Lance said.  “Anyway, I realize why you keep it under wraps.  It’s not something we can really advertise.”

“We?” Even in his medication-fogged state, he didn’t miss the pronoun.

“Yes.”  Lance looked Chris in the eye.  “We.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“Oh.”  Chris swallowed hard.  “So…”

“I’ve known my whole life, but very few people outside my family know.  A few friends from high school.  Some teammates from a few years ago.  And now you.”  Lance looked away.  “And Justin Timberlake.”

“What?” Chris gasped.

“We all have our mistakes.  Parts of our history we never EVER want to repeat,” Lance said.

“No. I mean, whatever, you and Justin, yeah.  But Justin?”

“He was experimenting,” Lance said.  “His words.”

Chris growled.  “I knew he was an ass.”

“It’s all good,” Lance promised.  “He’s not the issue here.”

“What is the issue?”

“I was wondering if, when you’re no longer under intense pain medication, you would be interested in going to dinner with me.”

Chris pinched his good leg, then shook his head.  “Excuse me?”

Lance looked even more nervous, and Chris thought he was absolutely adorable.  “I have really liked getting to know you over the past few weeks, Chris, and I’d like…well…this sounds lame, but I’d like to know you better.”

“You’re joking.”

“No,” Lance snapped.  “And I wish…”

“Stop!” Chris held up a hand.  “Lance, I’ve been interested in getting to know you from the first second you walked into the locker room.  I just wasn’t sure how to do it.”

“Really?”  Lance’s low voice seemed to raise a few octaves.

“Really.”  Chris smiled at him.

“Wow.”  Lance shook his head.  “I never knew.”

“Good.  I mean, because I didn’t think you were…you know…interested, and that’s the last thing you want out there.”

“Right.”  They looked at each other.  Lance reached over and took Chris’ hand.  “I’m sorry that something like this had to happen to you…that we had to go through this to be honest with each other.”

There was that “we” again, and this time, Chris liked it.  “Well, I’ll be out of here before you know it.  I’ll be home going through rehab while you’re jumping around the country.”

“We’re home sometimes,” Lance reminded him.  “I’ll help you with your rehab and therapy, and once you can hobble around, I’ll take you out to dinner.”

“Okay,” Chris said.

“I’m gonna go for real now,” Lance said, standing up.  “You need to rest.  Your cell phone is with your things.  Call me when you can.  No matter what time it is. If I can’t get it, leave a message, okay?”

“I will,” Chris promised.

Lance looked towards the doorway, then bent down.  He gave Chris a very gentle kiss on the lips.  “Sleep well.”

“I will,” Chris repeated, meaning it.

“Bye.”  Lance gave him a beautiful smile and left.  Chris reached up and touched his lips, shaking his head as he lay back on the pillow.  He fell asleep with the memory of Lance’s kiss fresh in his mind.

 

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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